


Definitely Not

by AyaFlower



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Denial, High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyaFlower/pseuds/AyaFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix is definitely not his type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not

**Author's Note:**

> For Rainydaze, who requested Locus's denial over being in love with Felix. Not sure if it's quite what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway.
> 
> In other news, I need to stop giving myself deadlines because I am lazy and unproductive and will never meet them.

Contrary to popular belief, the worst thing about high school isn’t the homework. Or the lectures. Or the teachers. Or most of the students, really.

No, the worst thing about high school is Felix.

Locus taps his pen against the desk, his mind, for once, a million miles away. Now, not a million miles away from _school_ , but a million miles away from the short asshole that’s taken to following him around. Who on most days is the reason that Locus is a million miles away. From school. Wow, this is getting convoluted.

Scratch that. Start again.

Locus jabs the the ballpoint pen against his paper, running a thick, jagged line along it’s porcelain surface. As if he could actually _scratch out_ all the thoughts that stick in his head. Then he realizes he’s getting a weird look from the person next to him and he tries to relax, to lean back in his seat and listen to the teacher. Who, while normally engaging enough for someone like Locus, is beyond boring today.

Locus glances at the clock. Tick tock, time is running out. It almost feels like it’s mocking him. He’s never been one to wait anxiously for the bell, but today is an exception. Actually, it seems he’s making a lot of exceptions lately. This is troubling.

Fortunately, that thought is enough to tie him over until the bell rings. He gathers his books, shoves them in his backpack, and stalks out. The halls are crowded (of course the halls are crowded; you’re a high school student, Locus. Get it together) and the cafeteria is more so. He’s just thankful for his menacing air today, because it means he can get a table even if he shows up a little later. Points of being antisocial, he supposes.

“Hey,” Felix slides into the seat across from him, and seriously? Where did he even come from, just appearing from the crowd like a five foot two ninja. Locus almost - _almost_ \- bangs his head against the table, but he hasn’t got it that bad yet.

Felix leans over the table, whispering conspiratorially; “So is it true?”

Locus suppresses a sigh. “Is what true?”

“That you like Emily Grey.”

Locus does a double take. “No, I-” He nearly adds _I like you_ , and _woah, abort, where did that come from?_ “No.” He glances up at Felix, who’s staring at him with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Felix is pretty, he consents, in a way that is definitely not his type. His hair is shaved on one side, and flipped over the other, bangs brushing along his forehead. It’s dyed blond, but not quite the platinum blond popular girl colour; dimmed down enough to actually look good. He’s got piercings all up one ear, and only three studs in the other. One is attached to chain, which loops back over to attach to the top.

So definitely not his type.

Definitely.

Felix sighs and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He shakes his head, and somehow rolls his eyes at the same time, which is impressive all things considered. Then someone calls his name from across the room, and he’s gone, a shadow melting into the background.

Locus stays there, and convinces himself he’s not disappointed.

* * *

 

Felix asks him again the next day, corners him after school. He’s walking home, but he pauses in the parking lot to check a text from his mother. He’s halfway through typing a reply when he looks up and Felix is scrutinizing him from about two inches away. He makes a sound that is _not_ a yelp, and stumbles back. “What the hell?”

Felix has an exasperated expression on his face, and is leaning his weight on one hip. “Hello to you too.” His gaze sweeps the parking lot. “Sharkface walking with you?”

Locus closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head. “No, not today.”

Felix brightens instantly. “Cool. Then I am.”

Locus knows better than to argue, just sling his backpack over his shoulder and starts heading out. Felix matches his speed at first, but then picks up the pace to turn around and walk backwards in front of him.

“So,” he says, after a long moment of silence that was by far not long enough. “Are you gonna _actually_ tell me who you like, or not?”

Locus forces himself not to look over. “Who said I like someone?”

Felix snorts. “You did. You’re all flustered and shit during class. So who is it?”

Locus opens his mouth to protest, to insist that he is not _‘flustered and shit’_ during class, but realizes that maybe he has been a little more distracted lately. And that Felix will interpret this however he wishes, no matter what Locus says. So instead, he racks his brain for someone who’s in all his classes.

“David Washington,” he answers, as it happens to be the first name that comes to mind. He supposes it was a decent response, because he does find Washington’s psyche fascinating. So it’s not that far fetched at all.

The look on Felix’s face is unreadable. “Happy for you.” He says it like he means the exact opposite, and before Locus can think about it too much, he’s turned off onto his street. Which is okay, because that means Locus has the entire rest of the walk to his house to think about it.

* * *

 

By Friday, Locus regrets ever having told Felix he liked Washington, even if it was a lie. The teen has become obnoxious since then, taking every opportunity to make a joke at Locus’s expense. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole school knew now, which wouldn’t concern him so much if it wasn’t wildly inaccurate. Or prevented him from having in depth conversations about the inner workings of Washington’s mind with the subject himself. And he was just starting to make progress on that.

He’s buried himself in a criminology textbook, and is sitting on a bench outside the library, when Felix shows up. Again, like a ninja, blending seamlessly with the crowd so no one sees him until he’s _right there_.

“Jesus, Felix, what do you want now?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but his mental countdown to the end of the day is making him anxious. He pretends he doesn’t notice the way Felix’s confident expression falters before returning full force. He sits down, and that’s when Locus notices he’s put a serious amount of effort into his clothes today. He’s wearing black tights that start off solid but start to become lacier below the knee. He has a black button up shirt on over an orange tank top, and matching heeled boots. All his earrings are black, but on the side with the three studs, the top on has a series of chains that fan out into a wing before curling over to attach to the top of his ear. And he’s grinning, the kind of wide grin that means trouble.

Locus can’t for the life of him figure out why the temperature in the room feels like it’s risen about ten degrees, and his jacket suddenly feels oppressive.

“It’s not Washington, is it?” Felix asks, voice a touch lower and smoother than it usually is.

Locus can’t even _breathe_ , let alone speak. But he manages “No, it’s not.” He doesn’t have the presence of mind to lie.

The smile drops from Felix’s face, and the intensity in his eyes is jarring compared to his usually flippant attitude. “I don’t want to be an asshole and ask if it’s me,” he talks slowly, and enunciates every word. “But is it me?”

That snaps Locus out of it. “No, of course not.”

Felix shrugs, almost like he doesn’t quite believe him, and exits.

* * *

 

It takes another two weeks. Another two weeks of _no, absolutely not_ , before he finally looks at Felix one lunch hour and thinks _maybe_. There’s a panic attack at some point in between, once when his brain decided that he was head over heels for Felix and the rest of him went _hell no_. There’s a hell of a lot of stress, and a dream that he will never tell anybody about, before he accepts it.

It’s easier than he thought it would be. Just letting himself glance over at Felix, think he looks nice today, without starting an inner conflict that would follow him around all day. And Felix does look nice day. But that’s not really saying anything, because he looks nice everyday, now that Locus lets himself consider it.

He feels oddly at peace that afternoon, and he takes decent notes for probably the first time in a month. The whole school still thinks he likes Washington, which he would be worried about if he weren’t emotionally exhausted from all the denial.

He catches up to Felix after school. The teen is by his locker, laughing with some people Locus has never seen before, but who all look high. He doesn’t pay them much attention, just walks up to where Felix is leaning against the wall, and stands next to him.

“Yes,” he says, completely out of nowhere. Felix laughs, again, though it’s more startled than humorous this time. Locus thinks he might like to hear that laugh more often.

“What?” he asks, looking up at Locus and straightening off the wall.

“A couple of week ago, you asked me if the person I liked was you. I’m changing my answer.” He can feels nerves coiling in his gut, but it’s too late to take the words back now. He doesn’t really regret it, even if it was an impulse decision.

Then Felix’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Locus, are you saying-?”

“Yes.” Locus cuts him off. “Yes, it’s you.”

Felix turns to face him, and one hand finds Locus’s shoulder while the other reaches behind his head to untie his hair from where it’s pulled up into a neat bun. Which is an impressive feat, considering their height difference. “Good,” he says, and leans up to kiss him quickly. “You really had me worried, for a second there.”

Locus thinks that maybe Felix is _definitely_ his type.


End file.
